Megane
by ashika pl
Summary: Sengoku goes for an important mission, but Heavens seem to hate him from its very beginning. It's a one-shot story aimed to make you laugh a bit on a rainy day. Rated T because I hint some mature themes at moments. It's Sengoku-centered, but there is mentioning of Garp, Borsalino and Kuzan. The story takes place while Sengoku was still an admiral.


Disclaimer: I do not own Sengoku (too bad) nor Garp (maybe not too bad ;) though then again..:) ) nor anything else belonging to One Piece world created by sensei Oda Eiichiro.

Megane

Blood was dripping steadily and persistently, rushing down his face, parting with his chin with not a single word of goodbye. Huge ruby droplets were losing their perfect roundness the moment they merged with their brethren in still growing crimson pool. Some have lost their way in his black beard. Others were creeping down his chest. Not a few thought it funny to mess with his already weakened vision.

 _'What a mess._ It's all _his goddamn fault_. And now I'm standing here, unable to do anything, just waiting for help like some stupid idiot, who...'

\- Sengoku-sama! - exclaimed said help with a voice full of shock, fright and a hint of compassion. - What has happened here!

Sengoku was standing in a place that just a moment ago was a witness to the fierce battle, his body covered in blood and sweat, admiral's cloak ripped into pieces, scraps of '正義' lying everywhere on bodies of those who dared to defy it. Or at least this was what usually took place when he heard these words. Seldomly did he hear it while standing in his (for the time being) own bathroom, while trying to understand how the hell one can open the goddamn water in this goddamn apartment. Not mentioning the lack of a goddamn first-aid, which was carefully taken away from him yesterday, with a very considerate and polite 'How can you humans use something AS PRIMITIVE AS THIS' as an excuse.

\- You look terrible! Are you alright? - asked the girl, pale and shaken

Sengoku briefly wondered how she would have react, if she saw his usual wounds after serious battle, since she reacted like that to one stupid, shallow but profusely bleeding injury on his forehead. It was apparent that this island had not seen war in decades. Or centuries. What was a bright side, he apparently didn't have to answer the first question, to which he seriously considered telling a story involving burglars and a brave but very quick fight.

\- Have you, per any chance, fallen down the stairs? - came a worried voice.

'My, we are _such a bright_ little vampire, aren't we. _'_ \- thought heavily irritated Sengoku – 'What in a world could tip you off? The blood on the edge of the handrail, the broken shelf that was hanging right beside the stairs or the scattered towels that had been _so smartly_ hung by _someone_ on the banister, just in case someone else wanted to catch hold of it? And now, that I have fallen down those bloody stairs, there apparently is no need to call me 'Sengoku-sama' anymore, right? There is no need to call someone respectfully, just because someone happened to _fall down the goddamn stairs_?'

Of course none of this was uttered. It really wouldn't be wise to destroy the mission with a couple of sharp words ('even if _perfectly_ justified') addressed to The Great Lord's favourite niece.

\- I am perfectly alright, n'an. It is just a small bruise, only bleeding a bit...

Is she smiling? Sengoku really could not see well, but an eerie uncomfortable feeling has crept upon his neck. As far as he could remember, although widely considered as blood-thirsty creatures, vampires actually tend to drink blood only of their beloved ones during their intimate moments together. Drinking blood of the guest of honor and the representant of the World Government after one day he has spent in your home would definitely be considered a very bad manner. Pretty much like forcing someone to have sex after knowing him for an hour. Which didn't mean there weren't people most willing to do it. Which was the source of bad feeling that decided to join Sengoku's growing headache _._

The girl came closer.

\- I'll be alright, don't bother yourself unnecessarily – said hastily Sengoku with a smile that consisted in 70% of cold politeness and 30% of polite coldness. - I just... need some bandage... and _water_.

\- The water in our taps is perfectly clean – said the girl proudly – Since it's for Lord's private use, it's specially filtered and it doesn't contain any bacterias. You can wash your wound with it.

' _Great._ '

\- N'an...

\- Please, can you call me Megan?

He heard a smile in her voice. He didn't like it. Nor the voice nor the name. Nor the inappropriate proposition of the first-name basis relationship. It worried him. As if he did not have enough on his mind recently. Anyway, now he should brace himself to say _this goddamn thing_ aloud. Sengoku worked for Marines for years and though once, when young, was an idealist type of soldier and despised any dishonorable behaviour, soon has learned that protecting world peace required - more often than you wanted - foul compromises, dirty lies, sometimes ruthlessness, sometimes humility. All these things were not easy to reconcile to, yet he prided himself on the fact that he haven't failed to follow them, were it really necessary. Even if with clenched teeth and aversion in heart.

 _Yet_. There were things _particularly_ difficult. Things that hurted man's pride more than _anything else._ Things...

\- ...we happen to have a bit different taps in Marine Ford...

He swallowed.

\- ...I'm afraid I don't know how to use them.

 _There._ Now he is not only the official representant of World Government and respected admiral of Marines who can't walk down the stairs. Now he is also the official representant of World Government and respected admiral of Marines who can't open _the bloody water_.

\- Oh, is that so? - came the serene answer – I'm so sorry, it's my fault. I just thought that the old ones may not be fancy enough for your taste and I ordered the new ones yesterday. They're the latest fashion! - added the girl beaming – All decors are made of pure...

\- You... what? - Sengoku's brain stumbled upon Woman Mind.

\- ...I just thought they would be prettier – smiled the girl – Since I've been honoured to accomodate the Great Admiral Sengoku (you could actually hear the capital letters) in my home, I thought it would be inappropriate to invite him with bathrooms made in such an awful style they were before. I saw your face when you touched the old taps...

'My face? Taps?'

\- ...I saw your evident disgust with them, so yesterday evening I ordered the new ones.

Sengoku hoped he isn't staring all too rudely. And most sincerely hoped there isn't any trace of 'Are you an IDIOT?' in his eyes, which thought has been floating all over his brain. Then again Borsalino's Rule Nr 3 said 'Though women often claim that it is inside that truly matters, they tend to obsess over small exterior things and will often interpret your lack of compliment as criticism. In other words – NEVER EVER forget to compliment.' In other words, if he had realised yesterday that the girl's worried look in the bathroom meant 'You don't like those taps, do you?' instead of 'You must be very tired after long journey', he would have given a pean on their infinite beauty and would not look like _an idiot who can't open the bloody water now._ And how the hell has she come up with the bright idea of him being disgusted? Oh, right, he was too tired to smile all the freaking time, his bad. Borsalino's been always saying 'the moment you stop smiling, the woman will start to invent dozens of reasons for that and the probability of her chosing the correct one is close to me ever getting promoted to an admiral (not that I truly care)'.

'What is wrong with some women, really' sighed Sengoku's mind. 'At least the bright side is that I haven't hurt my head bad enough to forget how to use the taps since yesterday. Always search for the bright side of things, Sengoku. Always.' It was the rule that has been engraved in him since he started to hang around with Garp. If one failed to obey it, there was a high probability that at times one would find himself engulfed with irresistable urge to murder someone else with bare hands.

In the meantime (Sengoku would gladly put a space in that word), the girl (there is no way he's going to call her by her name, with all due respect, he thought angrily) has opened the water and started to search for, hopefully, a bandage (or whatever they tend to use in such circumstances on this island) in one of the cupboards. With a relief he has finally washed down the blood off his head and its vicinities. He has countless times taken part in battles, but he never quite understood the idea of showing off in front of women with clothes and skin sticky with russet stinking stains all over your body, which was what some of the Marines where very fond of. Not that he was some kind of a kinky pedant, but man should keep his body clean to some decent level and should not feel embarrased just because he's happy to take a bath or clean his teeth once in a while, Sengoku always claimed (it took some time to break it to Garp, though). The new streak of blood started its happy journey down his face interrupting his thoughts.

\- Oh, here it is! - exclaimed happily the girl.

Good, finally. Of course she wasn't holding anything at least closely resembling bandage. Instead there was a small bottle, _pink and smelling of flowers*._ Sengoku decided to give her a polite, but suspicious look.

\- This medicine works much better than your human bandages, it keeps the wound ('A _scratch_ , you mean' he thought) perfectly clean and isolated from the surroundings for a long time.

\- Err...and it is made of flowers?

\- No, that's only the work of synthetic aroma and coloring.

Sengoku decided to drop the discussion at that point. This small country, however culturally _weird_ (as he had an unforgettable chance to experience during The Incident On The Ball on his last mission), was still on a higher technological level than any other country and there was a number of things World Government and Vegapunk did not understand yet (though Vegapunk was very quick in reducing the gap). Which fact, by the way, was the main reason why he was here on a carefully planned mission he had better not fail.

\- Er... actually, your wound is bleeding quite a lot.

'Keen observation. Keep up the good job and maybe we will want you in the Marines.'

\- As you may know, vampire saliva is the substance with the strongest clotting properties and it also reduces pain ('Good, my head's killing me. And not because of this scratch'), so if you may...

\- Of course...- Sengoku really didn't care what the medicine was made of. Then his mind decided to step in to save the day and replay the girl's last phrase for him. - Wait... this is what this medicine is made of, right? ('RIGHT?')

\- Um, well, no. Only the fresh saliva can instantly close disruptures in veins walls - she smiled innocently.

Sengoku's mind said _'I've told you so at the very beginning'_ very pointedly. Admiral turned around to wash down the new amount of blood sticking everywhere which gave him a small amount of time to calm down, ungreet his teeth ( _'that little hooker')_ and analise the situation. And the situation was what should be considered a stupid little problem. But Sengoku was a perfectionist and also had spend some time with Logos of the CP9, who had taught him that there is a special type of Stupid Little Problems that tend to overturn the best missions. And this mission really would better not be overturned. Relations with the biggest exporter of the kairouseki, obtaining the formula for the anty-ability poison and the freedom, or if things went really wrong, life of one of their most useful vice-admirals (and privately his long-time friend) Borsalino, currently imprisoned in N'garian dungeons were at stake here and one could really feel the pressure of responsibility. Especially considering the fact that one has been also responsible for devising the whole plan. That's why it was most advisable to rethink very carefully his next steps towards this pesky little brat, in order to avoid irritating in any way the ruler of this island.

\- You're alright? If you'll just sit for a moment, I'll do it quickly. It's not my first time, you know.

A glint of excitement in her voice? _What the hell was wrong with these kids nowadays?_ (actually, being a vampire, she could as well be his age, but with her mental development he felt fully justified to place her on the same level as an average giggling teenager that tends to make more noise than sense). It was far beyond his understanding what was _so_ attractive in a bearded man in his 40s, with first wrinkles, silver hairs and a pet goat, who on top of it all has to kill or throw people into jail as a part of his job routine and has unhealthy interest in other old, bearded man**. Alright, maybe he does have an afro, which is _obviously_ the manliest hairstyle a true man may have, and a couple of muscles here and there, which may be something new on this island, where soldiers relied mainly on long-distance weaponry, rather than on physical strength, but still, _come on_. He would definitely bring up _his_ children better, if he had any. No wonder the world goes to the dogs. But the thing was, instead of ranting internally he should decide whether to let the girl do whatever she wanted, which _may_ _perhaps_ leave her satisfied (Sengoku had some doubts here, since his bisexuality has waved him goodbye some time ago, when the stress started to mess with him) and risk the anger of her dear uncle, who may not be happy with his niece falling for a human (though then again you could never be certain of anything in this weird culture). Or turn her down,what, knowing some women, may result in her telling her uncle some teary story of, whatever, him insulting her, trying to rape her in her own home, whatever may come to mind that was so bored that it went after an old...

\- It won't hurt, I promise.

 _The hell with it all._ Sengoku sat down pointedly and glared as much as he could with his weakened vision. _Who the hell she thinks she's talking to?_ Maybe combining both of the considered approaches would produce some good effects. That is, doing whatever she wanted and at the same time keeping a face of a man who'd gladly drown her in her own bathtub. Maybe. At least the bright side is that Garp will die of envy tomorrow, when he tells him that the girl...

The girl _spat_ at her hand with a stamina and sound*** that would impress even Garp. Sengoku stared.

Oh.

He kind of didn't think about it. With all her behaviour he was expecting she'd... Whatever. Shut up. He wasn't expecting _anything else_. _Nothing else at all. Right._

The girl came closer and now he could see her face clearly. Indeed, there were twinkles in her eyes, without doubt, but they were far from the infatuated teenager's gleam. Rather it was the sparkling laughing look of the _damned little brat_ who has just found a new funny toy to play with. And yes, she was smiling, but not as in 'what a lovely tasty man is waiting for my help', but as in _'what a joke that an admiral can't walk around my home without bleeding and needing help'._ Some small timid thought in his head dared to murmur that maybe he's just being angry and unfair, but he has just punched it in the face.

The girl applied her weird medicine carefully, while Sengoku was trying hard not to imagine himself with a pink blot on his forehead carrying out the very important negotiations tomorrow. Hopefully, if the medicine is really that good, it should be commonly used and not surprise anyone. Than again, the very fact it had to be used will without doubt make everyone curious...

\- There you go.

\- Thank you very much. If you please, n'an, (at least one person should remember about basic politeness and using appropriate titles here) I'd like to go back to bed now. I'd better rest before tomorrow. - said Sengoku, trying to make his voice emotionless.

\- I understand. - she smiled yet again ( _'Aren't your muscles strained from doing that all the time?'_ ) - Wish you a good night.

\- Thank you – he answered dryly standing up.

She frowned.

'Damn. Apparently should have been more polite.'

\- I KNOW. - after a short moment of uncomfortable silence said the girl with a voice suggesting the discovery that will upturn the whole island and a couple of neighbouring countries. - You're _not wearing glasses._ I _knew_ something was different.

Sengoku winced as the girl's oh-so-sweet voice reminded him of the primary reason of _this whole pathetic scene._ And of the fact that there is someone upstairs waiting to be _murdered brutally_ as soon as he will finally be able to get back to his bed.

\- So that's why you have fallen down – guessed the girl in a tone of every girl in every universe leaning over a hurt scared harmless tiger cube.

Girls loved it when something generally considered lethal suddenly appeared to have a weak side making it vulnerable and – according to their weird logic – _cute_. Of course, in reality, leaning over hurt scared _'sweeet*_*'_ tiger cube would have most probably ended with an entirely new topography of the face of the leaning idiot. And, of course, glasses-less Sengoku was just as much vulnerable and harmless. If he hadn't been so tired he would have given her a stern sermon on years he spent training his fighting skills to overcome a handicap of greatly weakened vision. He would have told her about subtle and difficult art of following and predicting enemy's haki, about analysing the blur of shapes and colors in case enemy happened to be a master of hiding their own haki, about delicate nuances of sounds which can tell you about other person's intentions. He might even tell her about the most complicate and painstaking method of overcoming his weak point – that is _not forgetting_ to _always_ have a spare pair on you in case something went wrong (the reason why he didn't have it now was sleeping soundly upstairs completely not aware of his _pitiful_ future). He definitely was not a man to be harmless and vulnerable only because he did not have his glasses. Definitely not. But even if one is master in one's field, one must concede that it is pretty tricky to analyse the movements, sounds and haki of a jumper lying on the floor right on the last step. _Anyway_ he was too tired and the very thought of uttering even a single word more seemed equally tempting as taking a bath in a tub full of sea water.

\- ...or did you lost them when falling down?

\- NO. - said sharply Sengoku and quickly reminded himself of mission, Borsalino, his rank, world peace, overdue vacation and so to calm down. - It's just...

' _It's just that my lover's pride and apparently a point of honor is to always tear everything, including glasses, off me in less than 10 seconds and throw it all over the place.'_ He decided the truth would not be the best, despite what all the folk wisdom has been saying. But lying that he has fallen _with_ his glasses _on_ or that he _doesn't remember where he has put them_ was also _out of the question._ He _won't_ let himself be more humiliated. He decided on the half-truth.

\- My dear friend have unfortunately thrown them off the shelf late at night and I didn't want to make a noise searching for the spare pair in my suitcase in the middle of the night, n'an.

\- That's so s... - he killed her with his glare. - ...thoughtful of you – replied the girl. - Shall I help y...

\- I am very grateful for your kind consideration, but I am not a man to repeat his mistakes twice. - with a silent satisfaction he observed for a short moment as she struggled to analyse the possible podtexts of the phrase and then he turned around to leave the room. - Have a good night, n'an.

\- Sleep well before tomorrow. Be car...

\- THANK YOU, N'AN.

Careful not to make a mistake of trying to show that he is perfectly capable of walking without any help by doing it too swiftly and proudly (the towels were still lying on the floor just waiting to embrace his fallen body) he made his way to the stairs and up. He gave a look of utter loathing at the jumper lying on the last step and then in a direction of a dark room, from which he could very well hear the loud characteristic snoring of sleeping Hero. _'I'm SO gonna punch him in the face tomorrow'._ The bright side of being with Garp was the fact that he was a pretty handy stress-reliever. He never failed to give you a reason to punch him in the face. And sometimes there is nothing better to calm you down after a stressful day than a feel and sound of that rapid intimacy between your knuckles and someone's jaw.

Though, come to think of it, Sengoku couldn't quite imagine how the hell Garp did manage to throw this jumper here. That is unless he could bend the laws of physics with his haki ('and you can never know with those _bloody D.',_ he added mournfully)****. He has moved silently into the room, stepped over the small calm presence of Orpheus, his pet goat*****, lying close to the bed, and watched Garp for a moment. 'So this is supposed to be the Hero of The Marines, the supreme threat to the pirates, the vigilant dog of the World Government. Bloke who after drinking wouldn't awake even if Whitebeard himself attacked his appartment' – sneered Sengoku. The thought from before has finally came round after last punch and looked at him with puppy eyes. ' _Fine, maybe I am a bit unfair and angry.'_ Garp has without doubt awoken and fallen asleep again the moment he realised Sengoku wasn't by his side, probably taking care of the burglars or assassins or whoever came by with a friendly visit. The thought that Garp, upon hearing the noise, may have simply thought 'Oh, Sengoku has fallen down the stairs again' tried to knock to admiral's mind for a moment but quickly decided that it still has dreams and nakama and it's not worth dying here in a violent way.

Sengoku has thrown a couple of Garp's limbs onto the Garp's side of the bed and lied down with a grim sigh. That young lad - Kuzan, right? - the one both Borsalino and Garp liked that much – tends to always say that a bad morning means a bad day, bad Monday means a bad week,. Thus, if at the very beginning a couple of small things go wrong, you should call it quits and simply go to sleep until the new day/week/mission comes. That's some relaxing way of living, isn't it. But he'd better not be right about bad beginnings. Or Sengoku will come back from this mission with bigger worries than some hurt admiral's pride. Much bigger.

'But _still_ , one just _have_ _to_ be humiliated once in a while, right? I can imagine her gossipping all over the Lord's palace about the World Government admiral who can't walk down the stairs and open the water. Goddamnit. God, tomorrow will not be a good day, oh, it won't.

Sigh. Better try to get some _.'_

 _'Goddammit.'_

Sengoku has turned to Garp's sideand closed his eyes.

Somewhere deep there was a bad feeling. Bad sensation that he's forgetting about something. But he really couldn't recall what. And maybe it was better that way. He really should go to sleep before tomorrow. He'll recall it then.

\- And I came in, ne? And what have my eyes seen, Lilianne? The Marine admiral, whole head in sweetly smelling blood, with this gorgeous body of his, thunderstorm in his dark eyes and with a small ' _Marine_ ' _sign_ _and their big trademark seagull in the middle of his pants, you imagine?_ \- a silver giggle of the vampire girl echoed couple of floors below, far from reach of Sengoku's ears.

\- This must be a part of what they call _a soldier uniform_ , right? Did he have 'Justice' on the other side of his admiral body _?_ \- laughter of the other girl lasted quite long.

Let's leave Sengoku with his uneasy dreams. Let's hope he won't recall what has been bothering him. He had got enough tonight, poor yatsu.

*actually in France they have such a flashy pinky medicine, which can be used instead of bandage on small wounds and which looks like you had coloured your skin with pink copic. Very pink, that is.

** I loved your comment, StaticGuru .

*** If anyone knows what kind of 'haaack' sound I'm talking about and how it is called in English I would be grateful for telling me ^^

**** the mystery has been solved next morning, when the jumper appeared to be lacking quite impressive part of the sleeve. Orpheus have felt Sengoku's reproachful look whole next day.

***** I was wondering how would one call that goat and then I had this vision of Tsuru 'oooh, he has such a _wonderful_ voice. Let's call him _Orpheus_ '


End file.
